


I'm Not Tall Enough to Reach the Jar of Cookies

by djlgallery



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, louis is very sad ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:18:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djlgallery/pseuds/djlgallery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is sad. harry is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Tall Enough to Reach the Jar of Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably something to read at, like, 3 a.m.

He doesn’t really know what’s wrong. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, and God knows he wants this feeling to go away. He doesn’t know how to, and it’s driving him mad. It’s like trying to reach into a jar of freshly baked cookies, still warm and soft, but touching a pit of scorching lava flames that pull you down with them, like a black hole would, instead. But you never die. You’re forced to feel the flames licking hungrily at your skin, eating you alive. You can feel the unbearable heat of the molten liquid swimming between your fingers, but you can’t make it stop.

That’s how Louis feels tonight. It’s actually how he’s been feeling for quite a few nights. It started out small, like he had only lost something and couldn’t find it, but the thoughts kept getting worse and worse, until it slipped and became a monster Louis never wanted to have. So he lay in bed that night, eyes scrunched closed, trying to keep the tears in, puffing weak, shaky breaths, in and out, _in_ , and _out_. He clutches his fingers to the sleeves of Harry’s old, blue hoodie, breathing in the aroma of the candle Harry lit up (tonight, it was French Vanilla) before leaving their room to make some tea. Louis can hear the clinking of a plate against the porcelain cup Harry was so adamant on buying, and Louis feels a little bit more at home – closer to the surface of the earth.

The cup is set down on the dresser, next to their bed. Harry hesitates, faltering in his steps, and Louis interrupts, scratching out a rough, _‘m tired_ , answering the unspoken question. Harry shouldn’t even bother asking how Louis is feeling anymore; the response has not changed for who knows how long, it could have been weeks, it could have been months. Harry can’t help it. He hates it, but he doesn’t know what to do, in fear of making something even worse. So he just pads to his side of their bed and toes off his lavender slippers, engulfing himself into the vast duvet. He trades this in for a soft, beautiful boy, slipping under the covers and reaching towards him instead.

When Harry’s arms wrap around Louis, Louis plunges right back down into the burning core of the earth again, and he’s melting this time. He doesn’t know if it feels better or worse than the feeling from before, but he thinks, _Harry doesn’t even know what’s going on, and he’s so_ young. _He’s_ so, so young, _and he’s hugging me so tightly_ , and this feeling of silent communication is too much. The tears water to the brim of his lids, threatening to fall. His entire vision blurs, and he can feel his nose doing the thing that always happens when he’s about to cry. When the first tear falls, he knows he won’t be able to stop. He almost violently shoves his way out of Harry’s arms and turns around so he’s facing Harry. He wipes his nose with the hoodie sleeve, not caring about the way he knows his nose will redden and become even more irritated, and he almost thinks he might look pathetic, wiping snot into someone else’s jacket. He’s falling down even more, dropping a thousand more feet. But then, he remembers, this is Harry. It’s okay. And then, he feels like a child again. He’s looking into Harry’s eyes, speaking into them, and it scares Harry so much because he can see the pain Louis is in. Harry doesn’t know how to make it go away, but he would do anything to make Louis’ eyes shine piercingly bright again, the way they did when he was eighteen. Louis looks so lost now, and it’s so excruciating; there’s so, so much hurt. Louis is terrified, and he’s just a young boy again, looking into Harry’s eyes, desperately asking for an answer, for a reply, for comfort, asking him how to make this stop. Louis answers himself.

“I don’t know,” he chokes out, voice so raw, getting caught in the middle because of the tears now freely falling down, leaving marked trails of burns behind. He’s frantically trying to keep breathing now, never able to catch a decent amount of air at the right time. Louis vaguely hears himself repeating, _I don’t know, Idon’tknowIdon’tknow, I don’t_ know, over and over again, but he can barely feel anything. His face has gone numb from shaking so hard and having tears coat it, layers upon layers, and he can barely feel Harry pulling him in, deep into the warmth of Harry’s pajama-clad body. Harry’s whispering words into Louis’ hair, trying to reassure the both of them, saying things like, _c’mon, just hold on to me_ , and _everything will be okay. I promise_ , and Louis can’t hear Harry over his own thoughts, can’t hear him through the burning, throbbing feeling searing through his brain incessantly. So Louis just holds on to the distant figure of Harry even tighter, trying to hold on to the only piece of familiarity, the only home that he knows now. Louis’ tears fight past the cloth of Harry’s thin shirt and burn into Harry’s skin, leaving deeper wounds within Harry every time another tear sinks through. That’s how they fall asleep, almost as the sun rises back up. Harry, exhausted from his constant worry and the pain transferred to him; Louis, from not being able to distinguish between touch and sound anymore, unable to see through the confusion.

The candle burns throughout the whole night and into the day.

**Author's Note:**

> soo, this was my first try at writing! in the future, most of the stuff i write will probably also be very short. kind of like a drabble, i guess. i guess i'll only be writing drabbles, then! lol
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at sunshinesharold. (:


End file.
